In the Brazilian's Debt

by Susan Stephens

  How thoughtful. She almost laughed. Real life was such a cruel spectator of vulnerable moments and now she was painfully conscious of her nakedness and quickly pulled up a sheet to cover herself.

  ‘I shouldn’t think anyone will notice who’s at the party and who’s left by now,’ Chico remarked. ‘So I wouldn’t give it a second thought, if I were you. I’ll go down before you, and you follow,’ he suggested. ‘It will be easier for you that way.’

  How considerate, she thought dryly. ‘Good idea.’

  He gave her a stare, and for a moment she wondered if he’d seen through her to the uncertainty beneath her confident words, but then he relaxed and started tugging on his clothes. Job done, Chico was moving on to his next project, and she was a fool if she thought what had happened between them meant anything more to him than that.

  She tried to settle back and then sat up again. She wasn’t going to lie here, feeling sorry for herself. And she wasn’t going to hide away as if she’d done something wrong. They were consenting adults, consenting, and it had been fun.

  It had been a lot more than fun for Lizzie, but this wasn’t the fairy-tale fantasy of her teenage years, but the inevitable consequence of two healthy adults taking advantage of some privacy on a hot, sultry night.

  So, if that was all it was, why did she hurt like hell?

  Leaping out of bed, she grabbed her clothes. She didn’t need to hold them in front of her as any sort of shield as Chico didn’t even look at her. Reaching for his boots, he stepped into them. He still hadn’t fastened his jeans and his hard, ripped torso was still naked. She felt a violent bolt of lust and subdued it. That was her body talking. Her mind had more sense. And, for sure, Chico had no such thoughts in his head. The sex had been good, but it was done, and he had other things to be getting on with. Fastening his belt, he shrugged on his shirt, and did up what few buttons were left, then shot her a dry look. ‘You owe me a shirt.’

  ‘You owe me a blouse,’ she countered, her swift riposte hiding a heart that was breaking in two. Yes. This had been every bit the mistake she had anticipated. Did she regret it? No. And she would hide her feelings from Chico, whatever it took. One perfect night, remember?

  ‘If you see Danny when you go down, will you tell her I’m okay?’

  Chico raised a brow as he opened a drawer and reached for a clean top. ‘If I see her.’ He shrugged the top on and then made for the door without another word.

  What did she expect him to say? That was great—we must do it again some time? She’d walked willingly into this situation, Lizzie accepted as the door closed behind Chico. And now she was going to see him every day until the end of the course, so she would have to live with the consequences of what she’d done. It was hard to believe she’d been so strong, so certain when she set out for Brazil, and now she’d thrown her whole future into jeopardy.

  Because she had ignored her mother’s warning that Chico was poison?

  She couldn’t believe that. She wouldn’t believe anything bad about Chico, but she’d been so young at the time of the scandal it was hard to be sure of the facts. She could remember her grandmother holding her when Lizzie had needed reassurance after hearing her mother saying terrible things about Chico. Now Lizzie wondered if she had been meant to overhear her mother’s increasingly bitter condemnation of him, which had been liberally laced with Serena’s obvious dislike of her daughter Lizzie.

  There was no reason for Serena to be jealous of her, Lizzie reflected. Her mother was still a beautiful woman, while Lizzie would always be a carrot-top and unexceptional, but Lizzie’s growing friendship with the young Brazilian groom had been the final nail in the coffin of their relationship back then. He’s trouble, that one, Serena would say as she followed Chico with her hungry stare.

  Her mother’s words hung in the air now, tainting everything, and goading Lizzie with the fact that Serena might have been right about Chico caring for nothing and no one, which was one of her regular taunts. Chico’s childhood, running wild in the barrio, and witnessing his brother being shot dead, must have left him emotionally damaged, and possibly incapable of feeling, though Lizzie’s grandmother had insisted this wasn’t true, and that Chico was real—authentic. He had no airs and graces that her grandmother could detect. What you see is what you get with Chico, she had insisted, but some people can’t deal with that type of honesty, Lizzie.

  Her grandmother’s words had washed over her head when she was an impassioned teenager and all she’d cared about was Serena driving her friends away, but for some time she had known that her grandmother was right. She had disowned Lizzie’s parents shortly after Eduardo had left Rottingdean House with his young groom. Frustratingly, Lizzie didn’t know all the circumstances behind their departure, but, thanks to newspaper reports at the time, she did understand something of the way her parents had been living, and their accusations against Chico, especially as she had become the butt of everyone’s humour at school when the salacious details of her parents’ scandalous parties had leaked out, and everyone except Danny had mocked her.

  ‘See you down there, Lizzie—’

  As Chico closed the door behind him all that old humiliation came flooding back. She allowed it a few ugly seconds to inhabit her, and then she pulled herself together. She wasn’t fifteen now. This was very much the present day, and she had a goal and a purpose in being here that went far beyond moping around in Chico’s bedroom. She wasn’t even going to waste time being angry with herself for putting herself in this position. Grabbing her clothes, she headed for the shower.

  * * *

  Danny was waiting for her when she got back to the party.

  ‘Well?’

  Danny was avid for news, but Lizzie’s mouth firmed when she glanced at Chico, who was holding court in the middle of a group of polo players and their groupies.

  ‘Come on,’ Danny pressed again eagerly.

  Turning her back on the group and Chico, Lizzie met her friend’s gaze. ‘I screwed up.’

  ‘You didn’t...?’

  ‘Let’s just say, I won’t be a notch on our lord and master’s bedpost, more of a scratch.’

  ‘So, Chico had an itch?’

  ‘This isn’t a joke, Danny.’

  ‘So, you did...’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it was amazing. Don’t tell me. I really don’t want to know. But you did talk about the past and get that sorted out?’

  Danny knew how many questions remained unanswered. At a guess, the whole village of Rottingdean knew about that. ‘No. We didn’t talk,’ Lizzie admitted.

  ‘But you will?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said honestly.

  Thankfully, Danny knew when to leave things alone. They had been confidantes for ever, or so it seemed to Lizzie, but there were some things she couldn’t share, not even with Danny, and Danny respected that. Lizzie doubted she would ever tell anyone that she had made love to Chico Fernandez, while he had had sex with her. That wasn’t something you lightly shared around. ‘You don’t mind if we don’t talk about it, do you?’

  Danny stared at her for a moment, and then gave her a hug.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE HAD NEVER had sex with one of his students. He liked to think he had more sense. Lizzie had scotched that idea. He didn’t have any sense where she was concerned, but then he didn’t have sex with anyone who blew his mind like Lizzie Fane.

  Of all people, Lizzie?

  Why not Lizzie? They’d been close when she had been too young to touch, and now that attraction had exploded into something so much more.

  So this isn’t revenge?

  Revenge? He certainly had enough reason to revenge himself on the family that had almost ruined his career before it began. If Eduardo had been a different person, Chico would have been
out on his ear. But like him, Eduardo cared nothing for prestige and the influence of the so-called aristocracy, and everything for truth and straight dealing. And he had believed in Chico, taking his word above that of strangers.

  And if this were revenge, why Lizzie?

  As an angry youth he’d thought any member of the Fane family fair game after what they’d almost cost him. But now the only answer he could come up with was that he cared about Lizzie. He’d been incapable of feeling for so long, this truly was a revelation to him.

  Forget the past—he’d just noticed Tiago peeling away from the pack of players. The music had picked up pace, and everyone was dancing. The moon was out, the stars were bright, and the spirit of South America had infected all the party-goers, and Lizzie was talking to Tiago. Damn! She was dancing with him! Excusing himself from the group he was talking to, he muscled his way through the crowd and homed in on his target. ‘Do you mind if I cut in?’

  Tightening his hold on Lizzie, Tiago met Chico’s stony gaze with amusement, and it was Lizzie who spoke up. ‘Yes, I’d mind,’ she said.

  Brave words, but her eyes betrayed her. Those eyes were hurt and he knew why. He had treated her like any other savvy woman of his acquaintance, and had forgotten this was Lizzie. He stared levelly at his teammate. ‘Tiago?’

  Tiago didn’t need asking twice.

  He caught hold of Lizzie’s arm when she went to move away. ‘Are you refusing my invitation to dance?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said bluntly, attempting to freeze him with a look.

  ‘I know you want to dance with me.’

  ‘Oh, do you?’ Her words were angry, and two red patches had appeared on her cheeks. He guessed if he hadn’t been her boss and this training course hadn’t depended on his endorsement, she would happily tell him where to go.

  ‘One last dance?’ he suggested.

  ‘Why?’ She tipped her chin to regard him coolly.

  ‘Because we both want to.’

  They stared at each other unblinking for a moment. He wanted her, while Lizzie was equally determined not to succumb to his somewhat less than respectable charms again, and was determined to prove it by remaining stiff and unresponsive in his arms. She held him as the dance required, but there was no intimacy in her touch. She was like a block of ice, moving in time to the music, while only paying lip service to the hot South American beat.

  ‘This is like dancing with a nun,’ he remarked.

  ‘You think?’ she queried. ‘That’s strange, when I feel as if I’m dancing with an international polo player who’s hitting on one of his trainees for the second time in one night.’

  ‘You’re not just one of my trainees, Lizzie.’

  ‘Just the most available,’ she said, tight-lipped.

  ‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it.’

  She was keeping as much distance between them as she could. ‘What’s wrong with you, Lizzie?’

  ‘Are you serious?’ she demanded.

  ‘Yeah, I’m serious. Less than an hour ago you were moaning with pleasure in my arms.’

  ‘Everyone makes mistakes.’

  ‘You didn’t seem to think it was a mistake at the time.’

  ‘Only because I’m not as sophisticated as you.’

  She wasn’t sophisticated at all, which was Lizzie’s appeal. She was straight down the line, with her heart boldly emblazoned on her sleeve. ‘And where are you going now?’ He reached for her when she pulled away.

  She stared with affront at his hand on her arm. ‘For a drink—for a walk—for a rest—for a chat—for just about anything that I can do away from you.’

  ‘Relax, Lizzie.’ He frowned, seeing her eyes were glittering with anger. ‘We’re only dancing.’

  ‘Like we were only having sex up there in your bedroom?’ She glanced towards the house. ‘Let me go!’ she demanded as he tightened his hold on her. ‘I suppose you think you can have sex with me and then casually come back to the party as if nothing had happened, because of who you are.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ He could never remember being brought to account like this before.

  ‘First you stop me drinking with Tiago,’ she elaborated, ‘and now you stop me dancing with him.’

  ‘Because you’re with me.’

  ‘Really?’ With an incredulous huff, she shook her head. ‘What gave you that idea?’

  ‘You, Lizzie. You gave me that idea.’

  ‘Me? You couldn’t wait to leave back there.’ She glanced up at the house.

  ‘I thought that what happened in my bedroom was by mutual consent. Please forgive me if I was in any way mistaken.’

  Chico wasn’t mistaken, but she was angry with herself for giving in to him—for even allowing herself to be hurt, because she was still harbouring a romantic daydream, while all Chico wanted was sex.

  ‘Lizzie?’

  Decision time, she thought as Chico put his hand on her cheek and made her look at him. She had to decide what was important now: pursuing a pipe dream, or achieving a goal. Gathering herself, she refocused on Chico’s face. ‘I made a mistake, but I won’t repeat it. I just want to graduate and go home with my diploma, and for that I need your help, but—’

  ‘Dios, Lizzie, what are you saying?’ Chico’s expression was thunderous.

  They had stopped dancing, and all the other couples, sensing a drama, were giving them a wide berth. ‘If you think for one moment I would penalise you unless you agree to sleep with me, you have not only disappointed me, you have insulted me.’

  ‘Then I apologise. That was not my intention.’

  ‘Perhaps you need to think more carefully before you say these things.’

  ‘What am I supposed to think when you can switch off your feelings so easily?’

  ‘Says the woman who makes passionate love with me, and who then takes to the dance floor with my friend.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘You didn’t dance with Tiago?’

  ‘Yes, but that was because—’

  ‘Because you wanted to show me how I must fall into line?’ Chico suggested. ‘I don’t do falling into line, Lizzie. You either accept me as I am, or—’

  ‘Or I stick around until you select your next victim from the available pool?’

  A muscle flexed in Chico’s jaw, but to his credit he remained silent, but nothing could hold back all the years of pent-up longing and hurt inside Lizzie now.

  ‘And when you’ve had sex with them, you cast them off, while they look at you adoringly, thinking how lucky they were to have come to the notice of the Chico Fernandez for all of ten seconds—’

  ‘I’ve noticed you for a lot longer than that, Lizzie. And we both know that this is the hurt of a fifteen-year-old girl talking, not the woman I made love to.’

  ‘You didn’t make love to me,’ she flared, getting it straight in her head. ‘You had sex with me.’

  ‘I think I know what happened.’

  ‘Then know this: I’m not a victim, and I won’t be pushed around. Nor am I one of those sophisticated women who knows the score.’

  ‘No,’ Chico agreed calmly. ‘You’re my childhood friend.’

  ‘I used to think I was your friend—’

  ‘And now you’re a complex woman I’m getting to know all over again.’

  ‘Maybe that’s true,’ Lizzie agreed as she shook Chico’s hand from her arm. ‘But you’ve changed so much I don’t know you. You’re closed off.
You show your feelings to no one, not even to me.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising as it’s twelve years since we last met.’

  ‘Yes. Twelve long years,’ she agreed. ‘I was a child then, and I’m a woman now—who isn’t so easily impressed. I’ve let go of the past, Chico, but can you?’

  ‘You’ve let go of the past?’ Chico demanded with a harsh laugh as he brought her close. ‘Do you remember how your parents made you feel? How they neglected you—ignored you, put you last? Have you really forgotten that, Lizzie?’

  As he spoke the music segued into a sizzling Argentine tango in honour of Nero Caracas, one of Chico’s closest friends, and before she knew it their heated discussion had somehow moved seamlessly into the fiery dance.

  He already knew Lizzie could dance like a dream when she wanted to, and moving to music was in his blood, but this second time around, after hot sex and hotter tempers, was electric. Their dancing was more heated, tense and fierce. If he’d been aware of her before sex, he was hyper-aware of her now. Lizzie’s fire insisted she respond to the music, and though she made as if she could resist him she anticipated his every move, just as she had in his bed. Her version of the heated Latin American dance might not be strictly authentic, but she brought something distinctly Lizzie to the dance that reminded him of what that lush body could do. She brought more sex per step to all the required precision and intensity to the dance than was safe and decent, forcing him to tell himself sternly that he couldn’t have her at his own party in the shadows in full sight of the dance floor. Thankfully, the tune came to an end, and so did Lizzie’s performance. It was almost a relief when she reverted to being safely buttoned up.

  ‘Will you please let me go?’ she demanded as if she had come round to discover she had been carelessly uninhibited on the dance floor, and now she was keen to restore some balance.

  ‘No, I won’t let you go,’ he said, dragging her close, reminding them both of how it had felt to be bound every inch of them skin to skin. He’d noticed Tiago circling the fringes of the crowd, and knew the signs. Tiago was hunting. ‘It’s not safe for me to let you go,’ he explained when Lizzie flashed him a look. ‘Wolves are prowling.’